


Communist Soda is Always Fun

by Shadow_Ember



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Crack, Feels, Pranks and Practical Jokes, leninade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Ember/pseuds/Shadow_Ember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony likes to prank Steve, and he does it often, much to the other's displeasure. While working in his lab one day, he remembers a specific soda that he plans to use in a prank against the captain. What he isn't expecting, is for the reclusive Bucky to help him with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communist Soda is Always Fun

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete crack that I got a little bit too carried away with. Seriously, it was supposed to be short, and now its over 3,000 words with some added feels between Tony, Jarvis and Vision. If things don't make sense, I apologize, I had to work a little bit of stuff around to fit the plot. Remember, this is a crack fic.

     It did not take long for Tony to notice that Steve had a strong aversion to communism. And not just communism, but anything related to it. He supposed it had to do with the time he was born in. Granted, it was before the rise of the Cold War and the paranoia that came with it, but the conservative, traditionalistic views were still present.

     As Captain America, Steve was the literal representation of the country and its freedom, capitalism, and democracy: a figure for young children to look up to and convince of the star-spangled land’s absolute perfection. This never changed much once the suit came off. Unlike the Hulk, Steve was his superhero counterpart through and through. There were no two sides to the coin; the morality existed in each plane and was upheld studiously.

     It was infuriating. Tony was as far from the cap’s position as was possible, and it was obvious that they clashed. The leader in Steve was always being challenged by the rebel in Tony. The good captain often became frustrated to the point of exasperation, displayed through disappointed glares and minute shakes of the head as if he were passive-aggressively disciplining an unruly child. But Tony was not a child, especially not one who needed fatherly guidance from Steve Rogers, and he expressed his own aggravation in the best way he knew how: humor, a simplistic thing that was always effective, both satisfying in revenge and good for a laugh.

     Snide remarks were frequent, and even better when they went over the soldier’s head. Pranks were less so, but pure gold when accomplished. Bruce was with him when he cooked up the idea for his latest prank.

     Tony always kept a cooler with him in his workspace, in order to prolong the hours he was able to stay and focus. Ready-to-grab beverages and snacks were kept at his fingertips ever since Pepper started refusing to cater to his every whim in an attempt to break bad habits.

     A variety of liquids were kept in there, from water to alcoholic beverages, which he kept to a minimum only for his workplace, though a good beer every once in a while did not hurt his creativity.

     His most peculiar drinks were the cool glass bottles fashioned in a way to invoke nostalgia and filled with fizzing liquid. The classic sodas were a splurge, and odd, considering his alcoholic tendencies. Saved for special moods, it was strange that he and Bruce had cracked some open after a particularly strenuous day in the lab.

     Unbeknownst to the others, Tony had been futilely trying to recreate Jarvis’s software. Bruce had taken it upon himself to assist, knowing how much his absence had taken a toll on the playboy. It was a stressful endeavor. Tony still possessed the blueprints from his original design for Jarvis, but kept encountering problems in the execution of the software’s development. Tony worked relentlessly to smooth the last few bugs out, but often found himself too frustrated to continue. Unbidden feelings were quick to rise, at which point Bruce would try to console him.

     It was on one such afternoon that Tony felt too drained to stare at the complicated blueprints of Jarvis’s system any longer. He threw open the mini-fridge pulling a cool bottle of Pib out and throwing another one in Bruce’s direction. It opened with a hiss, and he threw himself carelessly over his desk, scattering papers and notes. The milder scientist was less outward in his exasperation, ironically, since the man was always angry, and scooted closer to the playboy in his office chair. An unspoken inquiry into his well-being hung in the air.

     Tony chose not to answer it. “You know, Bruce,” he started, “My nanny used to take me to a soda parlor. Whenever I behaved, she took me to this little shop on a corner. It was always packed in there with both people and clutter.” His voice turned wistful. “I would sit down at the counter with a soda like this in my hand, drinking from the striped straws the place carried. She would always scold me if I drank to fast. She would say, ‘Mijo, el Diablo comes for little boys who drink too fast.’ I never listened to her.”

     Bruce was silent, as he always was when Tony reminisced. He was grateful for it. In the empty stretch of time, Tony lost himself in the memories of that soda parlor. He recalled all of the sodas he had tried, which ones he had favored, which ones he had spit out in disgust. One in particular stuck out in his mind, one he had not understood until he was a bit older.

     Suddenly he bolted upright, a metaphorical light bulb pinging over his head. He scrambled off the desk, pulling up the interactive computer interface in a flash. (He avoided voice recognition when possible; it did not feel right to hear FRIDAY’s unfamiliar voice answering back to him.)

     Intrigued, Bruce looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

     Tony did not answer. Instead, he flicked through web pages until he found what he was looking for. A picture of a soda bottle filled with pinkish liquid appeared before them. He gestured proudly to it, “This is the basis for my next prank.”

     “Leninade? Tony, what is this?” Bruce questioned, huffing in his slight laugh of uncertainty. The bottle was fairly self-explanatory. Based around a pun gained from combining Lenin and lemonade, the bottle boasted the sickle and hammer of the soviet flag, along with slogans rooted in socialist humor such as ‘Get hammered and sickled!’ and ‘Surprisingly satisfying simple soviet style soda!”. Bright pink liquid filled it, making it seem innocuous enough from a distance.

     “Let’s just say the captain will get a kick out of this,” Tony said mischievously.

     “You’ve pranked him enough already, leave the man alone.”

     He waved his hand flippantly, as he began ordering a case of the soda. “Oh come off it, Bruce. Loosen up.”

     “I assure you don’t want me to loosen up,” he sniffed, “But the rest of the team may not find it so innocent.”

     Tony thought of Natasha and the several other members who had distinctly Russian upbringings. He shrugged his shoulders as he clicked the option for rush delivery. “I’m not concerned about it Bruce. This will be funny.”

     “Don’t blame me if you land in trouble.”

     “Of course,” Tony laughed, “When do I not?”

     The box of sodas arrived in several days. Pepper had sent it up to his lab, leaving him to lug the cardboard box to the kitchen manually. Clint was the first to see him there.  
He looked as if he had just come from practice, dressed in sweats and a baggy t-shirt, with his bow slung over his shoulder. A pot of coffee was brewing next to him. “What’s in the box?” he called out.

     Tony slit the box open and handed a bottle to him. Clint turned the bottle over in his hands, and nodded approvingly at it. He chuckled without restraint. “What did you get this for?” His voice was full of mirth.

     “Steve hasn’t been pranked in a while. He’s overdue.”

     “When are you going to give it to him?”

     “I’m leaving them in the kitchen until he notices.”

     He set the bottle down on the counter. “Hold on, I’ll be back.”

     He returned shortly, dragging a reluctant Natasha. “Come on, Nat, you have to see this.”

     “What could have possibly gotten you so worked up?” she muttered.

     Tony spoke up. “I’m planning a new prank on the captain.”

     She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised with Clint this excited.” Her gaze softened slightly. Tony could tell she was intrigued by the prospect. “What is your plan this time?”

     He gestured to Clint who dropped a bottle into her hands. She observed it neutrally, her face covered by a mask. He did not worry about her reaction until she glanced up at him coldly. Her voice was level when she spoke, “Be at ease that you are not pranking me. An insult like this could cost you a slash on your cheek, and we know you would be more upset about that than even Pepper. But when it comes to Steve,” her eyes glinted mischievously, “I believe this will be fun for us all.”

     “My thoughts exactly. Capsicle is distrustful of anything communist so...” Tony noticed the twitch under Natasha’s eye, one less of irritation and more of vulnerability. After the invasion of New York, Steve had not necessarily warmed up to the others well. Being thrust into a completely new world was not easy, and it had been difficult to get the soldier to work with him, even when it was necessary. Steve had been a bit stiff towards Natasha afterward, distrustful because of his old ways. Sure, that time was long ago, and he had improved since then, but no one was more aware of it than Natasha.

     He held out a bottle. “Care for one?”

     She regarded him slowly, and Tony was almost afraid he had made a mistake and was about to get a fist to the face. Surprisingly, she merely shrugged and accepted it.

     “Shouldn’t be drinking this stuff. It’ll kill you,” she mumbled as she walked away.

     “It’s only soda!” Clint called after her. He shrugged and grabbed the coffee pot that had finished brewing. He took a swig, wincing at the heat. “Best of luck with the prank,” he choked out, then left.

* * *

 

     It took longer than Tony expected for Steve to find the sodas. Thor had stumbled upon them first, while turning the kitchen upside down for pop tarts. The asguardian had not understood the joke. Tony tried explaining it to him, even though everyone knew a joke was not funny once it had to be explained. Nevertheless, the man still did not grasp the humor behind it. The pun, yes, but the part where it was deemed funny simply did not work because Thor had not been mired in earthen culture for years like the other teammates had.  
     The new teammates were another matter. Rhodey had laughed, expectedly since he was the kind of person Tony deemed worthy of being his friend. Sam was not so enthusiastic. The Falcon found it insulting to Steve, which Tony had brushed off. The two were much too alike: soldiers with massive senses of duty.

     Wanda’s reaction was much like Clint’s; she laughed with gusto. Her reaction had surprised Tony. It was an odd thing to see her laughing around him, to see her possessing an emotion different than mistrust. He could not blame her, he would hate himself too if he was in her shoes, but to see her eyes crinkle in mirth was a relief.

     Vision’s reaction unsettled him, but that was perhaps because it was Vision. Tony still did not know how to feel about the man, robot, whatever he was. It was still an unknown as to what he _was_ , and Tony did not like the feeling of not knowing.

      When he had uploaded Jarvis into the cradle, he had expected the software to be combined into the body, driving out Ultron while also giving the virtual assistant a physical body. Kill two birds with one stone he supposed. He did not know how he was supposed to feel about this new character, who was definitely not Jarvis.

     Tony had been getting coffee when the humanoid zoomed into the room. He surveyed the kitchen mechanically, before dropping his eyes to the playboy’s. “Have you seen Wanda?” he asked.

     He glanced warily at the man. Ever since Ultron had been defeated, the two had formed an odd friendship. Wanda often helped him adjust to human existence, using her capability to read his no-doubt confused thoughts. Tony almost pitied him; it must be difficult transitioning from the cold clear functioning of a circuit to that of the electrical pulses and flitting, unexplainable feelings of mortals.

     “She’s probably training right now,” he stated in hopes for him to fly on his merry way.

     Vision inclined his head, “Thank you, sir.”

     Tony stiffened. The way the small endearment flowed so easily off the robots tongue sounded close, too close, to his old virtual assistant. Little things like this made it so difficult to be around the man. There must have been just enough of Jarvis in him to maintain a few of his mannerisms, much like Ultron had. It was not a pleasant reminder to have.

     The floating man seemed to take no notice of his discomfort, and if he did, he made no motion to announce it. His eyes flitted to the cardboard box that had found its place on the kitchen counter in the past week. “What is this?” he questioned, his voice flooded with curiosity.

     “It’s for a prank, against cap. Thor didn’t get it, you probably won’t either. Ah, American humor, you know,” Tony shifted uneasily.

     A bottle was gingerly picked up by the other. He turned it over in his hands, with such an intense gaze that Tony almost thought he was scanning it with some sort of super vision.

     “I presume you intend it as a stab against the Captain’s preference for capitalism? Such a thing will surely provoke the ire in him that you will find amusing,” he said coolly.

     Tony grimaced, “Don’t say it like that. It makes it sound cheap, overused. Like sad pun made by a drunk frat boy.”

     The man smiled lightly at him, “I meant no offense, Tony.” His shoulders visibly sagged in relief at the omission of Jarvis’s typical title for him. “Best of luck for your prank.” He added, and flew off to find Wanda.

* * *

 

     Tony had begun to think Steve would not find the sodas. He half considered barging into his room at three in the morning and dumping the entire case on him, but he figured that would end with him thrown on the floor with a massive headache. Never disturb a sleeping soldier they said.

     In the end, the reclusive new admission to the tower succeeded in carrying out Tony’s prank. Bucky Barnes, it turns out, could be as mischievous as he was forgetful.

     The man had been in the tower for several months, with slow progress. His memory was returning gradually, but Steve had to watch him nearly constantly. In fact, he was the reason why all of the avengers, even the ones that had technically left, were all together in his tower again; Fury wanted to take no chances with the winter soldier. What better way than making the ten most powerful superheroes on Earth his personal caretakers?

     It did not take long for Tony to notice that the sodas were disappearing, slowly, one by one. He consulted the video footage in the kitchen –manually, of course, he did not wish to ask FRIDAY for it – to find that the winter soldier himself had been sneaking into the kitchen randomly and stealing the bottles. Tony, who originally thought someone needed to be told to lay off of the fizzy drinks, found himself cracking up in his lab. He did not realize he had been laughing his head off until Pepper appeared, frantically wondering if he was sick. He had dismissed her, assuring her that he was fine, and proceeded to do nothing about Bucky. After all, if it amused him that much, why not let it continue?

     Steve, being the good captain he was, liked to hold meetings with all of the avengers. They did not have an official meeting room, because Tony had never felt the need to add one, so the unofficial meeting area became the kitchen. He figured it was for the best though; food was a good method of placating people, and he sure as hell knew the group could use that every now and then.

     This time around, Steve was talking about teamwork. Tony nearly scoffed at the idea. It was well known that no matter how much better they had gotten at it, he and the soldier still clashed often. While the others joined in the discussion on how best to get along, he drifted off into his own thoughts.

     “I don’t suppose you have anything to say about this, Tony?” Steve’s voice cut harshly through his daydream, scattering all his thoughts on improving the replacement Jarvis.

     “Teamwork, great. We need to be better at teamwork,” he said off handedly.

     Steve squinted, “You weren’t paying attention at all were you?”

     Tony stood up, feeling anger begin to gather. “Listen, capsiscle, I-” He cut off abruptly when he saw Bucky slink into the room out of Steve’s line of sight.

     “Well?” he demanded.

     His eyes darted back in defiance. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see that the others had taken notice of their intruder and were shifting nervously. “Nothing,” he finished lamely. In the shadows of the kitchen, he could see Bucky pulling a soda from the cardboard box.

     “If you’re not going to participate, I suggest you leave.”

     “I thought this was about teamwork, _captain_.”

     Natasha spoke up harshly, “Enough guys, we don’t need to start this.” Tony saw her eyes flick to the figure huddled to himself, gripping a glass that he had poured the Leninade into.

     The two looked at her, and the air was filled with electricity. Slowly, they each nodded their retreat to her. The group shuffled about, unsure of how to break the tension. It was Clint who was the trailblazer.

     “Hey, guys, did you see me and Nat today? I beat her sparring,” he boasted.

     “Watch it, Barton,” she warned, “You won’t be so cocky when I drug you’re coffee.”

    “Not my coffee!” he yelped. Quiet laughs erupted from the avengers, and easily, they fell into talking. It was surprising how quickly camaraderie could be achieved, especially with the addition of new team members.

     Tony, however, watched as Steve turned away from them with a sigh. The big man’s shoulders drooped, and he almost looked like the kid from Brooklyn again.

     It did not take long for him to notice the winter soldier, now that he was within his line of site. “Bucky?” he said softly, “I’m surprised you’re out here. I thought you would be in your room.”

     The man shrugged. He held out the glass filled with pink liquid.

     Steve approached hesitantly, which was odd to Tony. He always acted like a skittish deer around Bucky. “For me?”

     He nodded. Steve accepted the glass, swishing the liquid in circles as he peered at it. “What is it?”

     So at least he was not completely clueless when it came to Bucky. Tony would have suspected that something was wrong with it if he had not seen him pour it. The winter soldier, on the other hand, leveled Steve with a look as if to say “seriously?”

     The captain, took it as a cue to drink. He tipped it back, taking a generous swig of the soda. “That’s good,” he concluded, “It actually tastes like Sprite.” He continued to drink, draining the glass quickly.

     It was quiet at first. A slight rumbling sound drifted through the room, like a cat purring. It steadily grew louder, until it became a hoarse laugh that could now be identified as coming from Bucky. His shoulders were shaking, and he was grimacing as he tried to hold in the laugh. His efforts were in vain though, and the rolling thunder gave way to a harsh crack of mirth that grabbed the attention of the others who had not been too involved in their own conversations. The man never spoke, let alone laughed, and his voice was rough from disuse, making the shaking sound dry and raspy. Nevertheless, there was a definite note of pure joy in it, and his eyes crinkled all the same.

     Steve was speechless. He looked around nervously. The confliction was obvious on his face: he approved of Bucky’s happiness but did not understand why he was happy.

     Tony could not help himself. He laughed loudly, pleasantly surprised by the winter soldier’s antics. He slapped the counter gleefully while the others looked on in confusion.

     Clint was the first to catch on. He had also enjoyed the soda, more than the others, and easily recognized the coral liquid. He joined in with Bucky and Tony, laughing at the inside joke.

     “What’s so funny?” Steve demanded.

     Bucky reached behind him, and pulled the bottle out for him to see. The cool glass slipped easily into the man’s hands.

     Steve studied it briefly, brows drawn together in intrigue. It took a second until he froze. “Leninade!” he cried. His face burned cherry red. “What is this?!” he stared at the bottle in mortification. Upon seeing the bottle, everyone else broke out into laughter at the poor captain.

     Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, capsicle, I never knew you supported communism.” Steve pushed him away gruffly, with cheeks so red he could have been a Japanese schoolgirl.

**Author's Note:**

> Look at this crack that I wrote. I feel so dorky because of this. Thank you so much for reading the rambling that comes out of my brain all the way to the end.  
> If you would like to see what the soda looks like, check out my post of it on tumblr here: http://shadow-ember.tumblr.com/post/120387594257/so-i-found-this-sorry-cap-communism-has  
> Also, I apologize greatly for not updating my other work I Like My Coffee Black. I have been busy, but school is over now so it is my next project to tackle.  
> -toodles wonderful readers!


End file.
